Paying Full Price
by samaryley
Summary: Two-Bit is well known among his peers for his ability to apply the five finger discount.  This time, however, it might have cost him more than he ever thought. Sometimes you just have to pay full price.
1. Chapter 1

**WHOA, I just published this without a disclaimer by accident! Been a while since I posted a story: my bad! I do not own Two-Bit or Kathy, S.E. Hinton does. Danny and Anna Harris are used with permission - they are somebluedecember's. I also have to credit somebluedecember with influencing my interpretation of Two-Bit and Kathy's relationship... because she writes them splendidly! But she knows I adore and worship her and am not plagiarizing. :-) She just inspired this two-shot. Enjoy.**

Pulling into the lot at the Dingo, Two-Bit glanced down at his watch. Six-fifteen.

Late.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, hoping Kathy had hit traffic, and by some miracle he'd arrived ahead of her. A quick glance through the large front window quickly dissolved that idea, however, and he noticed that she, also, was focused on her watch, a noticeable frown on her face.

Hell, he knew she'd be mad at him – he _expected_ her to be mad at him – but he hadn't expected to be completely stopped in his tracks by how unbelievably good she looked. For as long as they'd been dating, it amazed him that she still had the power to stop his breathing with just a glance in her direction. The new mini-skirt trend was something that really worked for a girl with legs like hers. Paired with the heeled sandals she was wearing and the sleeveless sweater that left very little to the imagination – not that Two-Bit _had_ to imagine anything; he'd seen it all - she looked drop-dead gorgeous.

Except for the frown.

Taking a deep breath, he gave a quick wave to a few guys he knew hanging outside the door but didn't stop to talk, not wanting to be any later than he already was. He watched her as he headed over to the booth where she sat, hanging on to the slight hope that he might see something other than that frown when she saw him. Finally, as he passed the booth next to hers, she looked up in his direction.

There was something- a glint in her eye, a slight upturning at the corners of her mouth - but it lasted only a second and could hardly be called a smile. It was far from the amazing, full-lipped toothy smile that he saw when he managed to crack her up - or that deep, sexy laugh he so loved hearing. It was nothing like the lazy smile she gave him after a particularly heated but tender encounter in his car or bed – or, more rarely, _her_ bed. It wasn't a smile – or even close – and he had to admit - it was extremely disappointing, if not totally expected.

He'd had no misconceptions about how this would go. He knew she'd be upset. In fact, he'd asked her to meet him in a public place hoping maybe it would keep the drama to a minimum. Not that they hadn't made their share of scenes in any number of public places in the past – but he knew she disliked it and would most likely just walk out on him before she'd let it escalate into a screaming match in the middle of the restaurant. Not that he wanted her walking out, either.

One thing he hadn't realized was how much he'd missed her – how much he wanted and needed to see that smile – and how reassuring it would be to get it – until he didn't. She didn't even offer a hello in greeting.

A sick feeling began a slow creep into the pit of his stomach.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his hand grazing the back of her neck, expecting – hoping – that she would slide over so he could sit next to her in the booth.

"You're late," she said, flatly. She didn't budge. He didn't want to take his hand off of her, so he slid his hand down her shoulder to take hold of her own and pulled it across the table in his, as he sat on the opposite side of the booth, directly across from her.

His immediate instinct was to offer an excuse – spin some yarn about how he got tied up at the Curtis's, he had to drive his sister Katie somewhere, or run an errand for his Ma – but he could tell from the tone of her voice that she didn't care. He was late – that was that, and there _was_ no excuse– and she was plenty pissed off. And she was right - the only true reason was that he couldn't get his shit and his nerves together quickly enough to be there on time. He hated this whole situation every single time it happened – and yet he realized that every single time it did, it was his own fault.

"I know," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry."

He had never started off right away with an apology, and she seemed slightly taken aback. She drew in a breath and as her eyes lifted to meet his, he raised her hand to his mouth to kiss it, but she pulled it away, folding her hands into her lap and shaking her head. He'd seen her upset before – hell, he'd certainly given her plenty of occasions to be pissed off at him, but her _hand_ had never been off limits before, for Christ's sake… and suddenly he felt a feeling he'd never had before. She doesn't even want me touching her, he realized, and the sick feeling intensified.

"_Kathy_," he started and was shocked at the unexpectedly pleading tone in his voice. He would have been embarrassed, probably, to be speaking to a girl in such a tone with so many people around, but this awful feeling in his gut somehow convinced him that it was okay, and maybe even necessary in this situation.

She looked up at him and the sadness and disappointment clear on her face made him realize immediately that the feeling he was experiencing was a nauseating combination of shame and fear. Shame that he had gone and disappointed her yet once again, and fear that this time he'd really, truly gone one step too far and crossed that invisible line that determined whether "Two-Bit and Kathy" as a real entity was even possible anymore. She'd been mad at him before – _furious_, even – but that look she gave him, well, it scared him more than he'd have dared believe possible.

"I'm _sorry_," he repeated, almost a whisper, wishing more than anything that she'd let him hold her hand. The chemistry between the two of them had always been so strong that, so long as they were connected, he was sure she heard what he was saying and could equally well read what he was thinking. Hell, she'd always been able to read him – she knew when he was bullshitting (and _hated_ it) but he always felt that she knew when he was shit-serious, too, and that was what, eventually, he figured, had her forgiving him whenever he messed up – because she knew that his feelings for her went far deeper than just some girl he thought was cute or sexy. He really cared about her – and he thought – he _hoped_ – that she knew it.

He'd actually reckoned quite a few times over the eighteen months since they'd first gotten together – including _every_ time he'd been in lockup, away from her, since then – that he might actually love her – but he'd only worked up the guts to _say_ it a few times when he wasn't pumped up full of liquor. Only _twice_, actually: once after she'd held him in her bed as he cried shamelessly over Dally and Johnny's deaths, and once as she sat with him in the waiting room as Katie was having an emergency appendectomy. The kid had complained to him all afternoon about her stomachache and he'd told her to "suck it up and wait until ma got home." Turns out she could've died.

The memory made him remember what a real asshole he could be at times and he felt a heightened fear that he'd just plain gone too far this time. Her eyes seemed to confirm it and he was too panicked to say anything, knowing for certain that whatever it was, it would surely be the wrong thing. Their stares seemed locked until finally she looked down into her lap.

"What're we even _doing_, Two Bit?" she asked, finally. He'd seen her sad – he'd heard her cry more than once – but the desperation he could sense in her voice right then made his hairs stand on end. He was right – he had really messed up this time, there was no doubt about it in his mind, hearing that voice.

"_Kathy… baby_," he reached out and tried to lift her chin to look up at him but she turned her head away. He felt a tear on his thumb and his heart wrenched so hard he wondered for a second if he was having a heart attack. A _heartbreak_ attack, if that was even a real thing. Fuck, he was making her cry _again_. _Why did he keep insisting on screwing things up?_

"_No_!" she snapped, loud enough that he jumped back a little and more than a few other customers turned to stare. Two-Bit eyed them right back and most immediately looked away.

"_No_," she repeated, more quietly. "No more calling me baby, no kissing my hand, or touching me, just to make me forgive you. No telling jokes and pretending that what we're doing is normal, or okay." She took a deep breath. "We've _done_ all that – we've pretended it's okay…. It's _not_. It's not okay that you keep hurting me, and I keep forgiving you…. I can't _do_ it anymore. I can't…" She finally looked up and met his gaze and he was surprised at the steadiness of her voice despite the fact that tears were freely streaming down her cheeks.

He couldn't open his mouth. What he felt was definitely fear, and he was absolutely paralyzed by it – and the possibility that she was breaking up with him, _for good_. And – to make it worse, as usual - he couldn't remind himself quite enough, it seemed - it was all his own doing.

Right then he knew it for shit-sure: he was in love with her. And he had been so terrified by that realization every single time he'd had it, that every time things had been going great he had immediately followed it up with some kind of extremely bad behavior or decision-making that had served to ruin the potentially perfect relationship between the two of them. This time was no exception.

Except, it seemed, that it might be the first time she truly refused to forgive him.

And he couldn't blame her.

He was tempted to apologize again but he knew it wouldn't be enough. It couldn't possibly be enough. She was looking at him, though, _staring _- and as much as he hated the look in her eyes, he wouldn't look away. He would hold on to whatever she was giving, even if the look in her eyes pierced his being and made him feel like the worst person alive. Which, he had to admit, he might well be.

"It was my _prom_, Two-Bit. My _senior prom_."

He'd tried to downplay it, in lockup. It was unfortunate, that he'd gotten two days rather than just the normal one for shoplifting – but apparently lighters were considered hazardous materials since they contained butane, and lifting an entire case bought you an extra night in Tulsa County lockup, with the unlikely charge of "illegal transportation of hazardous materials." And the funny part was - he hadn't even had his car. He'd illegally transported them in his pocket.

He _had_ felt like a complete shit, though, sitting in the cell knowing he was supposed to be picking up Kathy for prom, half-hoping someone else would take her, after all her work making her dress and all, but completely hating - and feeling downright _sick_ about - the fact that she'd be going out on a date with someone else. He hadn't slept, thinking about it - and knowing that what was supposed to be one of the best nights of her life had been completely ruined, by him.

On top of that, knowing what went on _after_ most proms, he was terrified that she might have messed around on him, just for spite. Not that he didn't deserve it, but the thought still made bile rise into his throat. He should have been with her, for her prom – both at _and_ after.

But he wasn't, because he was an idiot.

"I know. I'm sorry." He wasn't sure, besides that time with Katie's appendix, that he had ever really felt so sorry in his entire life. He felt sorry – and scared. Terrified. He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to ask. He needed to know, but wasn't sure he wanted to know. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, but he cringed as he asked.

"Did ya go? To prom?"

"_Yes._"

The bitterness in her answer just about killed him, as he realized that she must have wanted it to be him with her as much as he had… yet he had fucked up the whole thing for both of them. Typical Two-Bit Mathews. She deserved ten times the guy he'd ever be. He felt his stomach seize, and hoped he wasn't going to be sick. The waitress had approached the table a few times already but had clearly felt the tension and backed off. He looked away from Kathy for a second, caught the waitress's eye and motioned for two cokes. He didn't know if Kathy's stomach needed settling – he doubted it, judging from the steadiness in her voice - but his sure did. When he finally looked back at Kathy, her eyes were back in her lap.

"So… who with?"

He hated himself immediately for asking. He wanted to know, but a million times more than that, he _didn't_ want to know. He had a million names running through his head, names of guys he knew would give anything to get into her pants, and he hated himself more than anything at that moment for handing them an opportunity. Because he was a weak bastard and made bad choices, he'd left an amazing girl like Kathy dateless on the night of her senior prom - and wide open to a ton of unwelcome advances, without him even around to look out for her. He again surpressed the urge to be sick. Christ, the thought of someone taking her to prom, and taking advantage… He shook his head, refusing to let his mind even go there. He had no doubt that he could – and would - actually kill anyone who did something like that to her.

The cokes arrived and he immediately drank half of his, just barely hearing her answer.

"Danny Harris."

He felt immediate relief at hearing the name. Danny was the older brother of Anna - a friend of Kathy's, and Two-Bit was pretty sure he'd probably taken Kathy as a favor to Anna. He had a girl of his own and was far more likely to kick someone else's ass for trying to get into Kathy's pants than to try and get there himself.

However, that didn't change the fact that her date _should_ have been Two-Bit, and they both knew it.

He wasn't sure what was the right thing to say, but saying something seemed necessary. He gave it his best try.

"Hope you had a good time. Wish it'd been me, though." It was true. Well, the second part, anyway.

She looked up again, straight at him, with pure spite.

"_I_ wish it had been you, too. It _should_ have been you, Two-Bit. The _only_ reason it wasn't you is _you_!"

Her accusation was harsh, brutal, and one hundred percent accurate, and Two-Bit felt a whole new wave of hatred for himself. It had already been established that "I'm sorry" wasn't enough, so he had no idea what he could possibly say.

"I know."

The pain in her eyes was killing him. _Why_ was he so weak – why was he such an _ass_, hurting the person he loved and trusted the most, despite the fact that he knew that every time he failed her she built up that wall between them just a little bit more? _Never_ before had she pulled her hand away – she had always allowed at least that small bit of contact. They sat on opposite sides of the booth – her body seemed drawn in toward itself – she didn't want him touching her – and it was _killing_ him. All he had was her gaze, and he felt lucky to still have that. Finally he found the guts to speak.

"_I…_"

"_I…_" she started at the same time. "Go ahead," she immediately added.

"Naw, I'm the asshole. You deserve to say whatever you want." He truly believed it, too.

She blinked at his admission, seemingly surprised to hear him admit to being something as serious as an asshole. He'd definitely called himself an idiot before… but asshole was new.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and he could tell she was still fighting back tears.

"Just… _why_, Two-Bit? _Why_ do you keep doin' this? I mean; you're goin' to jail for stealin' stuff you don't even _need_… or want."

She'd asked him before, in less serious situations, and he'd never had a good answer. But she was right – he didn't need a case of lighters, yet he'd missed her _prom_ – broken her _heart_ – gotten them _here_,_ again_ - because he'd gotten his ass caught trying to steal one.

"I don't know."

He'd said this a million times before when asked the same question by countless people. It didn't ever before seem like a lie, but it was, it _had_ to be, and he knew it the minute he uttered the words this particular time. _Who the hell did stupid shit that got them sent to jail on the weekend of his girlfriend's prom, with no reason? _He didn't readily have an answer – but there had to be one, somewhere….

"You don't know," she repeated, emotionlessly.

There was a reason, he was sure. There _must_ be a reason. He just didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was – and he was even more sure that if he figured it out, he wouldn't want to share it with anyone else. Because it would probably be every bit as idiotic as his behavior. He tried to decide waht to say and before he could, she exploded in anger.

"You don't_ know?_ You _don't know, Two-Bit_? So you missed my _prom_, the most important night of high school for a girl, and you missed seeing me in a dress I spent _three months_ making just because I wanted to see your reaction to me wearing it, and you _don't know_ why you chose to try to steal a box of lighters that you didn't need, and could have easily bought if you _did _need them? Not to mention the fact that you hardly ever smoke, and all of your friends who _do_ smoke like fiends would have a lighter in their pockets for you to use anytime_. But… _you_ don't know?"_

She was crying now – really crying, almost sobbing - and he hated it. She was trying not to, he could tell – but she was. She was angrier and clearly more hurt than she'd been after any other time he'd ever screwed up – and rightfully so.

He was frozen, again. He still had no good reply and the millions of potential replies in his head failed to sort themselves out in time to formulate any sort of acceptable response. So he said nothing. His eyes met hers for a second but his thoughts were too conflicted to convey any sort of easily read message. So she seemed to assume the worst.

"Look, I just can't do this anymore - I'm just gonna go. Thanks for the coke." She slid out of the seat, wiping at her eyes, and was gone before he could even grab her arm.

Still frozen, he watched her walk out the door before he realized what was going on and sprang from his seat.

Panicking, he tossed far more cash than was necessary for two cokes onto the table and chased her out the door, not caring about the people he knew were laughing at him on the way out. Two-Bit Mathews did _not_ generally chase after girls.

But this was no ordinary girl.


	2. Chapter 2

He was breathless when he finally caught up with her, just as she was unlocking her car door.

"_Please,_ Kathy," he put his hand over her wrist as she was turning the key in the lock, and this time she didn't immediately pull away. She did turn her head away, but not before he saw the tears still streaming down her face. The sick feeling he'd had, which had only slightly waned, returned at full force.

"Let me go," she begged, through her tears. "_Please_, Two-Bit…I can't keep doing this."

He didn't want to fight with her, but he didn't want to let her go, either.

"Kathy, please. Just let me talk to you. Please, can we just talk? We don't have to go anywhere. We can do it right here, in your car."

"You just don't _get it,_ do you?" Her tone was suddenly accusing, and he realized that she assumed by him wanting to do anything in her car, he was intending that it would culminate in sex. Because, previously - that _had_ been his attitude – as well as the typical outcome.

People in the parking lot were starting to stare, so he turned his hand around hers, unlocking the door, then opened the door with his other hand. He reached inside and unlocked the back door, then climbed in.

Seemingly puzzled at suddenly finding herself outside the car with him inside, Kathy climbed into the front, and Two-Bit silently thanked God, Allah, Buddah, Jesus Christ, Elvis, or whoever was listening.

"Two-Bit, get out." She sounded exhausted, completely spent. "_Please_. This is hard enough already. Please just let me go. Just - do the right thing, _for once_, and let me go."

It hurt. It hurt, but she was right. He was always doing the wrong thing. But he didn't usually want to – or mean to. Right then he desperately wanted to do the _right_ thing. The problem was, he had no idea what that was.

"Baby, I might make the worst mistakes anybody could ever make, but I love you, and I ain't gonna ever just let you go."

She seemed unmoved. Even though he'd tossed out the "L-word."

"I _love_ you, Kathy. And I ain't drunk, either. I know what I'm sayin' and I mean it." Christ, he'd said it twice in a row, and she still didn't answer.

So he waited. A long, painful wait, and her answer wasn't what he'd either expected or hoped for.

"_Damnit, Two-Bit_," she cried, finally. "You're _such_ a goddamned hypocrite!"

He'd been called a lot of things before, but not _that_. He'd heard the word, for sure, but wasn't sure exactly what it meant. He was pretty sure it had come up in English class, and was similar to irony, but he couldn't remember what that meant either. In any case, he was pretty sure it wasn't good.

"I probably am. I'm sorry." This seemed the best response. He was everything else: asshole, idiot, thief, bad boyfriend… he surely was this other thing, too. He was the worst guy there was – he was believing it more and more with each passing moment of seeing what he'd done to this girl he really, really cared about – this girl he _loved._

"I mean, you bitch and moan about your dad and how he isn't there for your mom and you and Katie… but then – where are you when _I _need _you_? I know you care about me – Lord knows, there's no way I'd've stuck with you so long if I didn't believe there was something between us – but I can't keep giving you these chances and ending up all alone and hating myself for being stupid enough to trust you again. You're completely turning into your dad – you're becoming the same guy who you claim to hate so much!"

The accusation was as though she had slapped him, and his first instinct was to strike back in rage and defiance. "This is different!" he wanted to yell - but she was right. Somehow in his state of mind his instincts were slowed - and by the time he was ready to strike back in defiance he had already seen her point and realized she was absolutely right.

_Gone was gone_. His dad had a choice about leaving his family just as much as Two-Bit had a chance about putting something up his shirt that wasn't rightfully his. They'd both failed the people they supposedly cared about. He was a coward, just as much as his dad – by _choice_, he'd hurt the people he loved more than anyone should have to put up with, and he was about to lose the best thing he'd ever had.

Because he'd been an idiot.

There was no reason he'd spent the weekend in jail except for his own choice to steal something that – she was absolutely right – he had no need for.

"You ain't stupid, Kathy," he insisted. "You're the farthest thing there is from that. I'm the stupid one, and I'm sorry."

"_For Christ's sake_, Two-Bit! Either tell me why you keep doing this to me – choosing stealing over me – or just… just … get the hell out of my car and let me go. _Please_. I love you…. but I can't do this anymore. I deserve better."

She let out one sob, then caught her breath and settled back down in the seat.

The silence in the car seemed to go on forever. He had a feeling she was eying him in the rearview mirror and he wasn't thrilled at the fact that he felt like he was sitting there naked, stripped down to his core, horrified at the fact that he had just been called out on his behavior - which was, he had to admit, every bit as awful as that of the man he'd sworn he'd never become. He didn't enjoy being observed in his self-realization. He was pathetic and scared and terrified of the fact that he seemed to ruin everything he cared about. But he supposed that if anyone deserved to see him that way, it was Kathy.

This was it, he knew. She was drawing the line. He had to pull his shit together, and come up with some sort of explanation for why he acted like such a shit towards people he cared about, or she wanted him gone. _Gone_. He had no doubt that she meant it, too – and he didn't disagree. She _did_ deserve better. Hell, he'd already been gone too many times when she'd needed him, and she'd always been there for him. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve what he was constantly putting her through.

So he thought about an answer to her question, and swore on his mother's name he'd give it his honest-to-God best shot.

"_Kathy?_" he whispered, after what seemed like an hour.

"What?" She sounded exhausted. No longer mad, or accusing – just _done_.

"Can I tell you something?" He could barely talk. He'd never felt so vulnerable.

"Anything," she answered. And she waited. A long time - as he tried to figure out where to start.

"The first time I ever stole something, I was five."

She didn't answer, and he wasn't sure why he was telling her this, but he knew she was listening, and he somehow knew what he was remembering was important, but he just wasn't sure why quite yet.

"I was at the drug store, with my dad. He was checking out, and there were jars of candy up on the counter. He sat me up on the counter, and I was looking at the peppermints. He saw me looking and asked the guy behind the counter how much they cost. 'Penny each,' the guy said, and I remember thinking, great! I'll get one for me, one for mom and one for Katie."

"'Go ahead, get two," my dad said, to me and he turned back to the cashier. I remember being sad, thinking – how can I choose between giving one to Katie or Mom, so I stuck my hand in there and I took three. And I stuck them into my pocket and nobody noticed. Then we went home and I gave one to Kate and one to Mom and they both acted like I'd given them the most amazing gift ever, and my dad made a huge deal about how I'd given up my own peppermint and instead given the two to my mom and sister."

There was still no response from Kathy, but he was pretty sure she was still listening. He glanced at the rear-view mirror and he met her gaze for a second, before she looked down at the dashboard.

"Seems funny – before he said that, I never even considered giving them each one and not having one myself, so I guess that's why people think I'm a selfish bastard. And it seems like they're right, too."

He didn't expect a response, at least not a nice one - but he got one.

"Two-Bit, you were _five_. All five year old boys are selfish bastards." Her tone was slightly warmer.

He sighed.

"Yeah, maybe. But anyways, it felt good," he continued, "you know - to have something to give to somebody else. I never had that. And I guess that's why I steal stuff. I mean, I help out Ma with stuff at home she can't afford – even give her and Katie stuff they want but would never buy for themselves. My Ma works real hard – you know that. She deserves the stuff I get for her."

"Does she know you steal it?" Kathy asked.

"What difference does it make?" he responded, earnestly. "She deserves it. I can't give her nothing else."

"It's not really _yours_ to give, Two-Bit," she responded quietly.

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but what do I _have_, Kath? What's Keith Mathews _got_ worth givin'? I ain't got sports and career skills like Darry, I can't fix cars like Steve, I ain't charming like Soda, or smart like Pony. I wasn't tough as Dally or a hero like Johnny… I ain't _got_ anything. Knowin' how to give the people I care about stuff I think they deserve…I got that. That's all I got. That's my fuckin' talent."

He actually worried for a moment that he might cry, because he'd never really allowed himself to wonder why he did what he did… why he stole stuff he didn't need. But realizing how much a part of who he was depending on stealing shit neither he nor they actually needed – well, it made even him sad at how pathetic he was.

"Two-Bit…" she started, but he interrupted.

"No, really - what do _I have_?" he continued, getting angry at the fact that this self-examination had come up with such negative results. It was perfectly clear to him at that moment that he truly _was_ a bad, selfish person. And it made him sad – and angry.

"I have nothing. So _yeah_, you're right. I gotta take stuff that ain't mine and give it to people who might like it… _That's_ what I got. I guess I'm a goddamned Greaser Robin Hood. I don't have nothin' anybody wants, so I go get it somewhere else for the people who might want it. And I give it to them so they'll appreciate me, because there ain't no other reason they would, really. I'm a total fuck-up, Kathy, and I don't blame you for wantin' to get as much distance between you and me as possible, because I ain't nothing but bad news. I can't get out of my own goddamned idiotic way." He buried his face in his hands and leaned over, resting his head against the door and absolutely hating the way he felt.

He hardly noticed as she slipped out of the front seat, and was surprised as the door he'd been leaning against opened and he nearly fell out, stopped only by a body coming in. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of the back seat, Kathy by his side, holding his hand.

And Christ, she may as well have been screwing him silly – that's how good it felt to have her hand in his again. He squeezed and prayed again to all available gods that she'd let him keep holding on. But he couldn't look her in the eye, embarrassed about what he'd just told her.

"That _isn't_ who you are," she said. He felt her breath on the back of his neck but couldn't make himself turn around to face her.

"I am. That's what people think about when they hear my name," he said. "Two-Bit… yeah, he's good for the two finger discount on whatever's around. He's a pal, always givin' out candy bars, or cigarettes, nips… If I ain't got that, Kathy, what the hell's anyone want with me?"

She didn't answer, but suddenly her thumb was rubbing his palm, and damn, but it felt good.

"That's not you," she repeated.

"Okay – if you say that ain't me… so who _am_ I, then? I mean; Seriously, how in hell does a clown like me end up with a catch like Kathy Brigham?" He had wondered the same thing to himself a million times, but this was the first time he'd ever allowed himself to actually ask her.

"Do you honestly think that's why people like you – because you _steal_ stuff for them?" She seemed surprised –probably not so much about any revelations he was making about his shoplifting past – but more by this rare show of insecurity. Two-Bit was anything if not cocky – and the fact that he was opening up to her- he hoped – might illustrate the depth of the feelings he really had toward her.

"That's who I am – to people," he responded, quietly. "A clown. A joker. A daredevil… a cheater." He caught himself quickly "Not with girls, I mean – I ain't never cheated on you… just cheatin' people out of their merchandise."

"Doesn't sound like it makes you feel too good," she pointed out.

"It don't," he admitted. "I mean maybe for a second, when I give Katie or Ma something they like, but it doesn't last."

"So… why don't you stop?" she asked. It seemed so basic. But strangely, he couldn't remember ever actually considering it. Not after getting caught, not after a night in lockup… never until right then, knowing that she wasn't just suggesting it. She shouldn't have had to put up with bein' stood up for prom, and he knew that if he didn't want to lose her for good, there could be no repeat performance of the past weekend.

"Wouldn't be able to be getting' you no more fancy perfume…" he said, half jokingly.

"I don't care."

"No more expensive jewelry," he said, and her slight laugh did wonders for the tightness in his stomach. She knew as well as he did that any jewelry he'd given her wasn't the good stuff – even Two-Bit couldn't manage to get in to the locked, alarmed cases where the kept the real diamonds.

Finally turning to face her, he reached out to take her other hand, and much to his relief, she let him, even scooting a bit closer on the seat.

"That's never been who you are, to me, you know. Not a daredevil. Or a clown, or cheater."

He was hesitant to ask, but he wanted – maybe he even needed - to know.

"So who am I, then – to you?"

She leaned her head against his chest and didn't complain as he ran his fingers through the top of her hair.

"Well - you're funny, and fun to be around. You always know how to make other people feel comfortable, and you're really loyal to your friends. You're good to your Mom, and you look out for Katie."

That's everybody else, though," he pressed her – who am I to _you_? What _does_ a girl like you see in a guy like me?"

"Oh, Two-Bit," she sighed. "Of all the guys I know, I'd have never guessed that _you_ needed to hear this – but I guess I took it for granted because you're always acting so sure of yourself… It's kinda sad, that you really think those things about yourself."

"Yeah, let's don't let that be gettin' out… I gotta have some self- respect left," he squeezed her hand again and her slight squeeze back assured him that this conversation wasn't leaving the car.

"You're sweet, Two-Bit – and romantic, and sexy…"

"Sexy, huh?" he rubbed his thumb up and down her lower arm, but didn't push it.

"I think so," she said, her breath soft against his ear. "And you're a really great guy, which makes it really just suck so much when you do something stupid and I have to go to the prom with Danny Harris."

She didn't sound pissed off any more – just sad. He continued rubbing her arm as he pulled her head up and kissed her hair.

"I really am sorry, baby. I swear if I could go back I'd keep my hand in my pocket and I'da been takin' you to prom."

"I know you would… but you've said that before and then you've just gone out and messed up again."

"I know. I'm hating myself right now for it, too."

"I mean it this time, you know that, right? I mean, I'm not doin' this, not even once more. You mess up, and I'm done." She was dead serious, and he knew it. "And don't think you're getting me in bed anytime soon either – you've got a lot of makin' up for your mistakes to do. I'm thinkin' you're gonna have to be pretty much the best boyfriend on Earth for the foreseeable future."

"I know… and I will." He meant it. The no sex thing was rough – but he knew he deserved it – and he felt like pretty much the luckiest guy in the world that she was still letting him hold her hand after all the mistakes he'd made.

"So… what happens now is up to you. I know you have it in you to be a stand-up guy, Two-Bit… I wouldn't be sittin' here with you if I didn't."

It was up to him. And while it scared him, - the thought of just being Two-Bit – not _Two-Bit - the thief_, he had the feeling right then, with his girl's head against his chest, and her hand in his – that he just might be able to do it. It was worth it.

_She_ was worth it.

"I love you, Kath," he whispered into her ear, amazed at having said it again - well more than once in the very same day– but this time, surprisingly, there was nothing frightening about it.

"I know," she answered back, turning to place a soft kiss on his neck. He pulled her tight against him and swore he wouldn't mess things up again – he couldn't.

From now on, he was going to pay full price… because sometimes the discount just wasn't worth it.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Danny Harris belongs to somebluedecember, who also helped with beta-ing on this story. Reviews are appreciated.**


End file.
